


What Remains, Echoes

by welzes



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 07:56:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14076375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welzes/pseuds/welzes
Summary: The last of the primarchs to take flight, Uriel’s shout echoes behind him: “The supreme primarch lives!”





	What Remains, Echoes

**Author's Note:**

> For Trap. This is indulgent writing at its finest and a clunky mess for it.

“Don’t die!” cries Sandalphon, bringing what remains of Lucifer closer to his chest.

A blinding light originates in the minuscule space between them, flashing throughout the ruinous chamber. As quickly as it had come, the light fades. In the center of the room, Sandalphon remains kneeling with his hands pressed against him in an empty caress.

His eyes flutter open as six glorious wings unfurl from his back to stretch around his body like a feathery cocoon. Seeking what they had once held, his fingers curl only to claw feebly at the air. So he sits there with his knees digging into the debris on the floor; breathing in, then out, then in.

Faded footsteps soon reach his ears. They grow louder and faster before they come to a sudden stop, punctuated by Lyria’s sharp gasp. The rest is a blur. Malluel and Halluel appear when the earth begins to tremble, and together they quit the shrine.

* * *

The Grandcypher deteriorates against strong winds and forbidden power as it precariously dodges the legacy’s onslaught. At the center of the deck, Rackam shouts a myriad of orders to keep the ship afloat; Io and Rosetta work in tandem to realize his plans; and Gran, Lyria, and Vyrn stand close to the archangels when Sandalphon’s wings unfurl to their true size, drawing everyone’s gazes.

He’d spent the whole time aboard in a catatonic state: staring, but not seeing; overwhelmed by loss and the awesome power coursing through its new vessel. The Grandcypher gives a dramatic tilt, and his wings sweep him off of the deck to hover at a foot’s distance.

“Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, Raphael . . . ” he begins once the crew’s shouts die down, his voice even, “forgive me. It was my powerlessness that gave rise to this situation, and I cannot rectify this misstep on my own. In order to face the legacy of an old friend, I require your strength. Fly with me.”

Wrapped in a brilliant golden light, Sandalphon blinks out of view as he soars toward his nemesis with incredible speed. Back on the Grandcypher’s deck, Michael gasps.

“This aura . . . !”

“No,” Gabriel starts as the power of their respective elements colors the four primarchs, “could it be?”

At the crew's inquiry, Raphael simply says, “That’s not Sandalphon.”

Michael and Gabriel then spring toward the sky, Raphael following suit in pursuit of Sandalphon's retreating figure. The last of the primarchs to take flight, Uriel’s shout echoes behind him: “The supreme primarch lives!”

* * *

After everything is said and done, Lyria’s lips tremble when those six luminous wings retreat to reveal Sandalphon’s face. The tension of unrestrained anger and weariness that had once crossed his features have been replaced instead with an impassive countenance; however, what draws Lyria’s sob is the hollowness behind glazed eyes as she cries, “You look so sad, Lucifer. If only we’d arrived in Canaan earlier, we could have saved Sandalphon . . . I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing to seek forgiveness for,” says Lucifer, closing his eyes at the familiar sound of Sandalphon’s voice, tempered by his flat intonation. “Though he no longer possesses a vessel of his own, Sandalphon exists within my core. Unlike the previous incident, we have become one again. Now he lies in a deeper slumber than ever before.”

Lyria shifts her weight from one foot to the other, clutching at the hem of her dress. “Slumber? Then . . . will he wake up someday?”

“That answer is beyond my knowledge.”

“I . . . I see . . . ”

“But I would like to believe that, one day, he will.” Lucifer raises a hand and looks down, studying the lines crossing his palm beneath the fabric of his glove. “I do not intend to separate us before that time comes. Yet I do not wish to isolate his memory, either.”

At Lyria’s echoing of his words, he continues: “While I cannot be certain of the possibility that your voice will reach him, I ask that you speak to him as you would have. After all, it isn’t just me in this body. Please.”

* * *

Whether it is day or night, the images that enter his thoughts are not his own. Rather, they are memories of the ego his core had assimilated upon reuniting with its lesser half. Preserved as a new part of his being, the memories trickle in one by one, sporadic but unrelenting in their appearances.

 _Sandalphon_ , he thinks, _why did you take my core into yours? I see it in your memory. You, whose core was born from mine, knew that this would mean sacrificing your ego to preserve mine. Two thousand years ago, you had rebelled to resist this exact fate—yet you chose to grant me solace, during a time when I could neither speak nor feel . . ._

_Your memories pervade our merged mind. I hear and feel all of your thoughts, your emotions. They are the same feelings for which I had failed to offer comfort when you had needed it the most. But beneath that loneliness and resentment, I see the joy you had tried and faltered in burying, and your unending yearning for what had been lost between us._

_I had thought that we would have more time. For ageless beings like ourselves, what are several years? For my arrogance, you paid the price in my stead._

_I will treasure the happiness and remember the sadness that you have left me. Take solace in my core, and we will never part again. Thank you, Sandalphon. And forgive me._


End file.
